Gabe knew the type only too well. He loathed Jiri already. “And there’s definitely only him and one other in there?”
“Yes. Karim, who was at your friend’s place last night. He is also furious—and scared. It shook him up, although he hides it well.”
“Perfect.” Shadow readied her bow, a bomb in her palm. “Then let’s rattle them some more with a bomb.”
“No,” Gabe stayed her arm. “I still want to talk to him.”
“Gabe! You’re insane. Let’s really unnerve him.”
“That bomb could kill him.”
“I think Shadow is right,” Dorian interjected. “Jiri won’t negotiate. He’s half-possessed by Belial after all these years.”
Gabe felt sorry for Dorian, and that was hard to do with Nephilim. They had a presence, and were usually full of confidence. Dorian projected it, but it was a façade. He was over all of it and wanted his time with Jiri to be finished. And he was scared, Gabe suddenly realised with a shock. Jiri ruled by fear.
Gabe, however, was determined, and although worried about the use of Belial’s tokens, he refused to be cowed by the possibility. “I don’t care. I’m going in. Shadow, I’ll open the door and head inside, but I’ll keep out of the door’s entrance and leave it wide open. If I come out running, send a bomb in. Dorian, you stay out of sight.”
“My pleasure,” Shadow said, adjusting her stance. She had become frighteningly efficient at loading her arrowheads with JD’s bombs. She had spent weeks perfecting how they were carried.
Gabe marched down the corridor, took a deep breath, and threw the door open. Two big men, brutish in their size, were standing next to the pool table, hands resting on their pool cues, deep in conversation. They were halfway through a game, balls strewn across the table, and the room was low lit. It was obvious who Jiri was. There was a dominance to how he stood, hard eyed, staring at the man who was his lieutenant. Karim. Both were olive-skinned and dark-haired, and Jiri’s hair was oiled into a long plait. His cleanshaven face was all sharp planes.
Gabe took it all in with one swift glance and stepped inside. “Jiri. It’s time we talked.”
Both men looked around in shock but recovered quickly, Jiri’s face settling into a scowl. “How the hell did you get in?” He looked beyond Gabe’s shoulder, but his angle was such that he couldn’t see down the corridor, and he gripped his pool cue like a weapon. “No matter. I will find out and kill them—after I kill you.”
“I want to talk,” Gabe said, hand on his hilt, and stepped to the right of the doorway. “You need to walk away from Belial. I can help you do it.”
Jiri walked slowly around the pool table, eyes not leaving Gabe’s, his prowl like that of a lion stalking its prey. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because this is another world, Jiri. Belial has no place in it, and you are free to build the life you choose.” Gabe kept his eye on Karim, who circled the table in the other direction, watching Jiri as much as Gabe. Both wore gold rings, large emerald gemstones flashing in ornate settings. Gabe could feel their power from across the room.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. None of us would. I am loyal to my father.”
“It’s time to grow up and see him for what he is. A bully. You follow his orders like an automaton. Think for yourself for once!”
Jiri never stopped moving as his lips twisted into a smile and his eyes glittered viciously. He oozed danger. “I am thinking for myself, you fool. We have power here, spreading Belial’s influence amongst the sheep in this society. I aim to continue our work of cleansing the weak for a long time.” His eyes travelled up and down Gabe dismissively. “And you won’t stop me.”
“We stopped you last night.” He switched his attention to Karim, and noted his fear that he tried to hide. “You saw it. Your brothers are dead. Even Mikhal, who drew on Belial’s power. His time is over, and so is yours.”
“It is not over,” Jiri roared, “until I say so. And I say never!” He sprang towards Gabe, his pool cue raised, ready to swing, and Karim did the same. Gabe had expected as much. It was clear that Jiri was a power-crazed bully just like his father. He ran for the door and dived to the side.
An arrow whizzed above his head, and he scrambled to his feet to run up the corridor, looking back over his shoulder. He’d barely made a few paces when the bomb exploded behind him.
Ash entered the large, ground floor living area, one step behind Ozan, with Lucien, Barak, and Samir on either side. A dozen men were gathered in the room, either seated or standing. Some were at the window looking out into the villa grounds, and a couple sat at a large table. The atmosphere was tense.
At first, no one took notice of their entrance, and then a couple looked around and immediately rose to their feet. The movement drew everyone’s attention.
Ozan spoke quickly, arms outstretched in a gesture of appeal. “Brothers. I am here to make a proposition. I suggest we leave Belial behind and forge a new life. This can be easy if we choose it to be, even for you, Pirro.” He directed this at a Nephilim with high, sharp cheekbones and a clenched jaw.
“And who,” Pirro asked, stepping forward with oily grace, “have you brought with you? Our enemy, I presume.”
“They are Nephilim who want to live in peace, just as we should, without fearing Belial.”
“Yet they are armed, and you have brought them into our home.” Pirro’s lips curled back. “You have betrayed us, you and Samir, and who else?” His eyes darted around the room. “Where are Nibal and Dorian?”
Ozan ignored his question. “We are on the wrong path, and have been for years. I am sick of it, and so are many of us. It’s time to change direction, Pirro. That trinket on your finger is poison.”
Ash watched the other Nephilim, spotting two who seemed to stand apart from the rest. He presumed they were Habib and Jabril, their co-conspirators. Ash leaned close to Samir, voice low as the other two talked, his eyes darting to them. “Those two are the ones on our side?”
Samir gave the briefest nod. Ash’s hand was on one of the bombs in his pocket, ready to throw it to the far side of the room now that he knew who to avoid. Even though the Nephilim were in their own living room, all were still either armed or within easy reach of their weapons.
Pirro unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Ozan. “I have worked hard for this token, Ozan. Don’t tempt me to use it. Stand down now, and you will survive. You too, Samir. Your friends won’t, of course.” His gaze swept over them all, and Ash knew, if given half a chance, Pirro would make them all suffer before death.
Ozan laughed mirthlessly. “If I stand down now, you will kill me. You have always been a liar, Pirro.” Ozan withdrew his own sword, and the others did the same, all except for Ash, who cupped the bomb in his hand, judging when best to activate it. Ozan addressed the other Nephilim. “Make a decision quickly. I know some of you are with me. This is no life anymore. It is a gilded prison, and we are chained to a cruel master.”
Most Nephilim, however, fell in behind Pirro, armed with swords and daggers, and a couple of guns too, Ash noted.
“Have it your own way,” Pirro said with a sneer. “I will kill you myself, but the others I want alive!”
A distant boom rang out across the house, just as Pirro charged. He halted for the briefest moment, confusion etched across his features, and Ash threw the bomb under the window. He’d timed it to perfection, and in seconds it detonated. The windows exploded and rubble flew everywhere, but Ash and his companions had crouched, braced for the explosion, and they regained their feet quickly.
Time to get to Pirro before he summoned Belial’s power.
Estelle’s rage increased as she observed the half a dozen women kept in a secure area of the villa. They were young, some barely out of their teens, and they all looked scared.
The series of small rooms were in the basement area, windowless and cramped, and the whole place stank of sweat and fear. A lounge area and TV comprised one room, and a bathroom was to the side. Through a partially open door, she saw that beds were lined up, dormitory style. A couple of other bedrooms with double beds were to the side. It wasn’t hard to imagine what happened there, and rage welled up again.
She subdued it for now, far too worried about the women to be angry with Nibal at her side. “It’s okay,” she said, holding her hands up. “Do you speak English? I’m here to help.”
